


took me by surprise

by moonwalkingdinosaur



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Humanoid Bill, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Swearing, M/M, PWP, i dont know what to tell you, one horrible pun slash innuendo, too many hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwalkingdinosaur/pseuds/moonwalkingdinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there are always other ways to get a man to speak. and Bill likes exploring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	took me by surprise

**Author's Note:**

> this is nothing but porn. sorry mom.

The only thing that could clearly cross Stanford mind in those moments before there was a warm hand on his thigh was the taboo of it all. The fact that he was sitting leaned against a wall, breath caught in his throat, Bill Cipher in front of him looking like he just won the lottery, a tension rising within him that had lied dormant for decades - it was all so... wrong. Displaced. Outside, people suffered at the hands of the same ones that were steadily smoothing the fabric of his pants with the pads of its thumbs. People ran and screamed when they heard the voice that was currently whispering "You know, I didn't realise I've missed that look upon your face so much until now, Sixer." into his ear. The fact that he responded to the touch the exact same way that he'd done 30 years from now made it even worse. 

  
  
Drawing another ragged breath roughly through his nose, Ford contemplated his options. As much as he could, anyways. The too-warm hand was rising millimeter by millimeter up, up, and frankly, no one could blame him for having this sort of reaction anymore. His pants were starting to grow tighter and tighter, and Bill said something again. He would have listened, if not for the soft, soft lips accidentally brushing against his ear while mouthing the words. The sweetest shocks ran through him and down to the pit of his stomach, where muscles already were tensing up. 

  
  
Anyways, options. Right. Well, one. Bill was offering him a place beside him, they could rule the universe together, they'd finally fulfill that lifelong deal of theirs. All that was required was the end of his entire world, planet, people, friends,  _ family _ . 

  
  
Two. Push away Bill away from himself (never mind about the cuffs around his wrists, trapped behind him), spit in his face and let himself have a noble death, fighting for justice.

  
  
(Three. Enjoy the moment before it's gone.)

  
  
Easy, right?

  
  
Right. 

  
  
His train of thought was stopped abruptly when the hand found the bulge where his thighs came to an end. 

  
  
"Are you even listening to me, old man?" The nasal voice hissed, and within less than a second, Stanford could do nothing  _ but _ listen to him. Nothing but feel the slim fingers softly dragging themselves upward, only to slowly stroke down again after a few seconds delay. Tense up even more when brightly glowing eyes moved from his neck to his face, ransacking the elder man's expression as if it would give him the answers of the multiverse. Ford felt his unwavering gaze back couldn’t be broken either. He was stuck.

  
  
How exactly the humanoid being that currently was about to straddle his right leg had come into existence was beyond him. The events before this endeavour had begun were beyond him. All he knew was the orbs drinking in every shudder, every stifled sound he was making, and then a thumb found the first button of his pants. Undone before he even knew what was unfolding.  _ Oh god this was actually happening. _ By the time the fly was about to come zipped open too, he couldn't not let out a tense and choked out, “Bill- Just-just  _ tell me  _ what you want me to do. What you  _ want. _ Just stop this… this  _ farce _ you're doing.”

  
  
Because he knew what Bill wanted. He knew what this was all about. Bill didn't want sex, Bill didn't want him. (it didn't matter how many times he asked Stanford to stay beside him, and the traitorous drop in his chest when he thought about it certainly didn't matter either. He didn’t know quite what to make of it yet.) Bill wanted to be free, unlimited. Bill wanted world domination. Bill wanted the universe at his feet. No matter how hungry his eyes were, Bill didn't want him. Bill wouldn't go to extensive lengths to get  _ one measly human  _ on his side.   
  


 

Bill didn't want  _ him _ .

 

He regretted the wording of the thought as soon as it crossed him. He was stating facts. Obviously. State the logical facts to have a clear image of the situation. 

 

Bill  _ wanted  _ something from him that he was going to refuse to give if he so had to die at the stake. There. Better.

  
  
For five, maybe six seconds Bill's face twisted into something of wonder and confusion. Stanford's breath was finally catching up to him, and it was the only sound audible in the vast room. Their eyes were locked by something unbreakable, and suddenly, Bill's face lit up like a christmas tree. A burning one, one with too many elaborate decorations, a tacky, hysterical one. 

  
  
"I'm pretty certain you already know  _ what _ I want, Stanford." Those maddeningly calm words were the last ones he heard before soft lips claimed his, and now another hand joined the first to make quick work of his pants, then boxers, and then -

 

_ Oh _ ,  _ christ. _

 

He suddenly didn't know whether to focus on the hot tongue forcing it's way into his mouth, or the slim hand wrapped so perfectly around his erect cock, or the other one pushing its way under his sweater, stroking a thumb over his happy trail, and the almost electric contact of skin to skin - it all made a long whine he'd deny later tear from his throat. It made his toes curl inside their robust boots. It made the shackles behind him rattle violently as his wrists tore at the fluorescent metal. 

 

As Stanford got a sharp suck on his lower lip, the hand in the more fatal position began to move, slowly. It was clear Bill wanted to build up something within him, something he could control with even the slightest of movements. He wanted Ford wrapped around his finger, and by the way the gray-haired man was arching into him, he was getting it. The swallowed noises escaping him were helping to convince Bill further of this fact too. 

 

His former muse of knowledge released his mouth after a few seconds of not being able to take a proper breath, and Ford gasped not only at the need for air in his lungs, but also the wonderfully slow up and down movements that were sending tingles down his spine. The back of his head hit the cold, obsidian wall made of heavy stone and he decided just to take in the sensations for a few seconds. Welcome them. Enjoy them. Ignore that the creature he'd once thought to be his entire world - that he was to without a doubt hate with a burning passion - was the one giving them to him. 

 

It was surprisingly easy, he realized. 

 

The hand on his stomach was gone under the red knitted fabric, moving up his abdomen firmly, as if claiming it. Moving further and further, grazing over every scar, scab and callous he'd gained in moments of misfortune beyond the portal, over some of the regretful black lines and patterns he'd willingly let Bill chart out all over him so long ago. Despite being restrained, in a durable trenchcoat and a thick sweater, he hadn't felt this naked in decades. His took a deep breath through his mouth.

 

“...but if you want me to speak in more  _ clearer  _ terms,” Something akin to annoyance in the demon’s voice sounded, but with his eyes closed, Ford couldn't really tell. Another, new set of fingers closed around his chin suddenly, and he was yanked down to look into Bill's lantern-eyes again. “Open up the barrier around Gravity Falls for me.” 

 

The worst part was that the two hands on the other parts of his body didn't subside their actions. They continued the deliciously owning touch even as Bill spoke. He was hearing inmpications of the destruction of mankind but  _ god, if Bill kept it up with the languidly slow increase in pace around him he was soon going to - _

 

Without warning, something he would only describe as claws bit into his jaw as Bill's fingers curled. Any more pressure and they would pierce skin.  _ “I said…” _ Bill was speaking through gritted teeth now. “...open up the-” 

 

“Fuck.” He said shortly, quietly. Stanford was starting to feel the telltale tension start to build in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn't in any way some shortcut to giving in to Bill's demands. This was torture in the sweetest of ways, and he knew it would take a lot more to break him. Nonetheless, his breath was shortening, and he knew he wouldn't last very much longer.

 

If Ford had been able to focus more, he'd been able to see how Bill was hotly biting his lower lip, as if trying to hold a grin from breaking out. His eyes were ravishing, and he only took one more second to regard his prisoner before leaning in even closer to say; “You know it's rude to interrupt someone while they're planning global destruction.” A thumb found to trace Stanford’s lower lip, then up in a circle. Feeling the other's breath on his hand and a soft shudder as he parted the lips in question, pulling just a little, just to see his jaw go slack. “And d’ya kiss your mother with that mouth? Disgusting.” 

 

Ford was only barely registering the one, two fingers starting to stroke his tongue and inside of his cavity, but he couldn’t deny the thrill it sent through him. It was also making the previously stifled noises extremely hard to contain. The digits around his shaft had caught some drops from its weeping head, and could move faster and smoother with every stroke. His hips was involuntary starting to move up with every downwards thrust. 

 

“I'm getting bored, Sixer…” His voice was so close now, attacking from every angle. He tore the now saliva-coated fingers from the trembling lips they'd had their fun within already, and gathered a fist full of gray hair instead. “There are much easier ways to go about this, you know that as well as I.” Stanford could now feel a warm breath close to his face. His own heated up (god, how old was he again? Closer to sixty than sixteen, that was for sure. Not that it seemed very relevant in the current situation.) and he tried to look anywhere but in the yellow eyes of his captor. 

 

“Honestly, I’m beginning to run out of options. And I think you’d rather  _ not _ want to see my backup plan.” The fingers in his hair were tightening, pulling in a way that probably wasn’t meant to be the pleasurable kind of pain. Stanford took that as a warning. Somewhere he absently noticed how the hands on his body had temporarily subsided their actions as Bill spoke more. He didn’t know how to take this.

 

Not one second later he could definitely feel some hair strands being torn off violently and his head pulled down so that he  _ had  _ to meet Bill’s angry eyes. “You’re  _ really  _ bad at listening tonight, are you?!” He was bearing his teeth now in something Ford couldn’t really call a grin, -Were those fangs?- but not a crazed animal either. “I thought more of you, I really did! If you’d been using your smarts you’d’ve given in by now! If you’d just  _ used your head-”  _

 

It was as if an figurative light bulb had lit up over Bill’s head the moment he interrupted himself. Every muscle in his face went slack and Ford couldn’t for the life of him start to imagine what was happening his head. Then Bill glanced down at the mess he’d created. (To Ford’s displeasure and embarrassment.) His forked tongue darted out to wet his lips. Hungrily.

 

“Well, as you humans do say,” he mused. “When in Barcelona!” 

 

Before the older man had any chance to either correct the misspoken proverb, or to even ask  _ what the hell he was referring to, _ Bill moved his lithe body at lightning-speed, down, down until-

 

He was almost to a 99.9% sure he was going to die right then and there. Because without warning there now was a hot mouth around him, and a tongue that was definitely not human was  _ wrapping  _ and  _ pumping _ and if he hadn’t been close before, he was standing on a cliff’s edge now. And there were hands on him again, more than before, moving faster, they were  _ everywhere.  _

 

He made the mistake to look down now. Look at Bill, look at this new form probably plucked right out of a wet dream ( _ or nightmare _ ) of his. He decided he rather liked the image of the demon beneath him. Maybe a bit too much. More than he should. He wished he could have a hand free. Wished he could bury it in the mop of hair currently between his thighs. Wished desperately to fall. To give in. To be able to crave again like he had so long ago. 

 

He guessed this was enough for now.

 

And then finally the dam broke within him, and he was twitching with every wave of pleasure that took over. Some curses from an alien language he’d only ever learned the swears from fell from his lips. It had been so, so long since he’d  _ yearned  _ like this and he couldn’t help but to welcome every crashing sensation with open arms. It lasted and lasted and lasted, it was bliss in the most explosive ways.

 

The thrill was still running through him when his coherency started slowly coming back to him. Bill had risen from his crouching position and was absently wiping off something from his full lips as he watched Stanford settle back in his body again. 

 

Ford’s head was starting to droop to rest his chin on his still heaving chest. The settling warm feeling inside him made him feel the exhaustion he'd held back the last few hours.  Maybe if he could just… close his eyes for a moment here… 

 

There was some movement underneath him, and Stanford understood that Bill was tucking him in again, zipping up his trousers. What a gentleman, right? He almost laughed at the thought and the unwelcome memories it awakened. 

 

“So,” said Bill after he'd finished his work. “What’ll it be?” His voice was far too calm for Stanford’s liking.

 

Just for a moment he considered the question. What  _ will  _ it be? What will he be after this? After everything is over? How will he remember this? 

 

And the question  _ what if? what if I said yes? _ ran uncontrolled through his mind and he hated himself for a few seconds. 

 

He took a final deep breath, as if to steel himself, and said “Rome.”

 

“...What?”

 

“It's ‘when in  _ Rome’. _ ” He repeated. Pushing all anger towards the demon before him into the words, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of something. “Not Barcelona.”

 

Bill was quiet for a few moments. Then his face twisted, he let out the most inhuman snarl, and snapped his fingers.

 

The last thing Stanford saw before a golden haze made his entire body unmovable again was the retreating back of someone he used to love. Wondered quietly if Bill was coming back. If he'd leave him there to rot. Have his family later find a statue with the most peculiar expression of calm conflict on him. With no one really able to phantom what had been going through his mind these last moments. 

  
He hoped against it. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first finished thing I've posted in a long while, also my first time writing smut, so feedback is welcome! :)


End file.
